


New in Town

by traceylane



Series: Thominewt Vignettes [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, that one au where all the gladers live in the same neighborhood and hang out, they play baseball, thomas and minho are best asshole friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2658287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceylane/pseuds/traceylane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt just moved here and Thomas and Minho are so happy they just broke his window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New in Town

It’s the first day of June and they’re playing baseball.

“You wipe that smirk off your face before I smack it off, Greenie,” Minho says, pointing at Thomas on the pitcher’s mound with the tip of his bat.

Thomas, of course, pays no mind, spinning the ball in his bare hand and then slapping it against his soft mitt. “You gonna play or are you planning on trash talking all day, since that’s what you’re best at?”

Minho snarls, “Shut up! I’m deciding whether I should hit this out of the park or straight at your goddamn—”    

Something whizzes past him and from behind him someone says “Strike one.” He turns and Teresa’s throwing the ball back to Thomas, whose smug grin is somehow even wider. Minho clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and glares at him.

“Get your head in the game, Minho!” Alby says from the dugout, shaking his head while the other team laughs.

Gally is a quarter way to third base and from there he shouts. “For God’s sake, just bunt or something!”

“Yeah, Minho, take one for the team,” Thomas jibes.

“Shut up and pitch!”

And Thomas does.

There’s a loud crack as Minho’s bat hits the ball and in a second or two everyone on the field has their hand over their eyes, trying to follow it as it sails in a wide arc over their neighborhood’s long, grassy field.

It’s Minho’s turn to smile, but it falls away instantly when they hear the distant crash of breaking glass.

“Oh, fuck,” Thomas says, and then starts to laugh, “Oh,  _fuck_ , Minho, what did you just  _do_?”

The outfielders are coming in, and the other players are starting to converge near the home plate, muttering worriedly.

Minho goes red. “What did I do? What do you mean what did  _I_  do?”

Thomas gives Minho an incredulous look, his eyebrows high, “Minho, you  _hit_  that!”

“Well, you  _pitched_  it!”

And the two of them start shouting over each other in the way that’s far from unfamiliar to the rest of the crowd, who have to back up a bit when Minho takes a swing at Thomas and Thomas tries to shove him to the ground.

“Will the both of you shut the fuck up and go get our ball?”

The both of them look up—Thomas in a choke hold, Minho with a knee at his stomach— and see Brenda, the head of Thomas’ team, looking down at them impatiently.

“But he—”

“I didn’t—”

“We don’t give a shit,” Alby cuts in, grabbing the both of them by the back of their shirts, turning them around, and pushing them in the direction of the crash.

“Now go get it.”

—

In ten minutes or so they’re standing on the porch of the Broken Glass House. There’s a moving truck in front of it, and they both joke about the chances that these poor bastards were going to pack up and leave again after this incident.

But they get nervous again as they approach the house’s big, blue door.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t such a shitty pitcher,” Minho mutters, giving the doorbell to a hard, angry press.

“Oh, definitely, because that makes so much sense, you’re a freakin’ genius, honestly—”

“It  _does_  make sense, douchebag, it has to do with—with the angle of the pitch, but I’m not even going to bother explaining that to someone who, one, doesn’t know shit about baseball, and two, got a C- on their projectile motion test in Physics—”

Thomas looks hurt. “Okay, that’s low, you know I studied really hard for that—”

Minho rolls his eyes but says “Fine, I’m sorry, but you still—”

“Is this yours?”

Thomas and Minho turn away from each other and look up. There’s a boy holding out their ball and standing in front of the house’s now open door, tall and blond and—

“Wow,” Thomas says, his mouth open and his eyes half closed like he’s seeing something divine. Minho actually feels the exact same way, but he still elbows Thomas in the ribs and says, “Y-yeah, that’s ours.”

And for the second (or third, or fourth—they haven’t been keeping track) time that day, Thomas and Minho talk frantically over each other.

“We’re so sorry—”

“We’ll pay for the window—”

“It was his fault, seriously, he just made me come over because he was scared—”

“He’s a liar, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” the boy says suddenly, tossing their ball in the air. Minho catches it awkwardly at his chest.

“We were actually planning on getting them replaced, anyway. My mum says it might be good luck, but that’s probably something she made up—anyway, it’s okay.”

Thomas and Minho catch the accent, and for some reason, Thomas thinks it’s okay to drawl out, “So you’re… not… from here?”

Minho has to close his eyes a moment to recover from the embarrassment, but the boy’s face lights up and he sticks out his hand, taking the remark a different way. “Oh, yeah! I’m Newt. We just moved here, you might’ve guessed.”

“Thomas—”

“Minho—”

The two of them speak at the same time and have a tiny, literal hand-to-hand battle trying to grab Newt’s hand first, but they both get a handshake, anyway.

“Thominho? Is that it?” Newt laughs, the names understandably jumbled up.

Minho and Thomas exchange a look.

“No—he’s Thomas,”

“And he’s Minho.”

“Cute,” Newt says, an eyebrow raised, and the other two have to make an effort not to look horrified.

After a moment, Minho clears his throat.

“So, um, we’re playing baseball—”

“I came to the conclusion, yeah,” Newt says, but he’s grinning.

“—right, sorry again—but if you wanted to come with us, you could be on my team—”

Thomas cuts in quick, “Or mine!”

Neither of them had the right to pick teams in the first place, but Newt doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” they say, in sync again, goddamn it.

Newt’s smile is worth it, though, and he rushes out, “Okay, gimme a sec, I have to ask—wait out here, I’ll be right back!”

He shuts the door behind him and Thomas and Minho turn on each other immediately, “ _Dibs_.”

Thomas is appalled. “You are  _not_  calling dibs, he is gorgeous and—”

Minho stops him, “I don’t even know why we bother doing this, dude, it’s disrespectful, and anyway I’m the better looking one and he likes me more—”

“You’ve known his name for three minutes!”

“So have you!”

And they stop when they hear the door open, Newt striding out with one shoe on, saying, “I’m good, we can go.”

He steps down onto the porch beside them and bends down to help his other foot into the second shoe, then looks up at them through long eyelashes and asks, “Something wrong?”

Minho and Thomas are staring down at him, obviously overwhelmed with this blessing the universe has granted to their sad little suburb.

“No, nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, let’s go then,” Newt says, and he throws his arms around their neck and leads them down his driveway to the sidewalk.

And as they walk down to the field, Thomas and Minho exchange a look behind Newt’s shoulders.

It’s going to be a good, long summer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thomas and Minho love each other, by the way, they’re not fooling anyone with their shit, as you may have guessed.
> 
> Meh, so this was longer than expected and probably has to do with me missing summer and wishing I had a bunch of rowdy kids to play baseball with and trying to come up with ideas for the ThoMiNewt Big Bang
> 
> Anyway, this could be a one-time thing, or it could be the first of a number of TMN vignettes, who knows, I’m garbage, bye, sorry for typos which probably happened ew, prompts [at my tumblr](http://amazerunners.tumblr.com/ask) maybe


End file.
